


Orange Prescription Bottles

by livingtrashcan05



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 07:37:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15286851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingtrashcan05/pseuds/livingtrashcan05
Summary: Lance is depressed, and in denial. He tries to raise his dose but it doesn't really work. His boyfriend, Keith, notices he isn't feeling good, and comforts him.





	Orange Prescription Bottles

**Author's Note:**

> This is a modern AU, and Coran is Lance's therapist. His last name is Smythe, so that's what he's called.

“Have you taken your pills yet, love?” Keith asked as Lance began to clear the breakfast dishes. Lance faced the window which was just above the kitchen sink.   
“Yeah, I did.”  
Keith frowned. His boyfriend had been becoming more distant lately and it was worrying him. “You see Dr. Smythe today, right? If you’re feeling bad again, maybe he can raise your dosage.”  
Lance finished rinsing the dishes and began loading them into the dishwasher. “I feel fine, my meds just haven’t kicked in yet.” Lance turned around to face Keith, who was sitting behind the kitchen island with a worried expression on his face. “But I’ll talk to him about it, if it makes you feel better.” A small smile played at Lance’s lips as he returned to loading the dishwasher.

*Time skip to Lance’s therapy session.*

“So, how have you been feeling this week, Lance?” asked Dr. Smythe, as he put a few fresh pieces of paper onto his clipboard. “Has the increased dose been working well for you?”  
“I don’t see a difference, really,” said Lance, who was fidgeting with his fingers to avoid eye contact.

The office where Lance’s therapy sessions were held was medium sized with tan and light green based color palette. The light green couch were Lance sat was comfortable, and he had a good view of the simple black and white clock on the wall. Dr. Smythe’s desk was in a niche on the left side of the door that lead to the waiting room. On the right side of the desk was a small cabinet with fidget toys for Dr. Smythe’s younger patients, though Lance liked to play with the purple kinetic sand. Dr. Smythe himself sat across from Lance in a comfortable light green armchair, a small side table on his left to place his notes on. There was a window to Lance’s right; which only showed the roof of the building next door, though he could often smell the nearby harbor; and another window directly across the room, where he could see the blue sky, and the seagulls resting on the roof of the building across the street.

“Well, wait a little longer,” said Dr. Smythe, jotting something down. “See if there’s a difference in the next few days, and email me with your results. We might have raise your dosage again.”  
Lance smiled. “That’s what Keith keeps saying. He thinks we should up the dosage more.”  
“Really?” Dr. Smythe raised one of his eyebrows in question. “Do you know why?”  
“No.” Lance continued to look at his hands, refusing to make eye contact.  
“Why don’t you take a guess, then.”  
“Maybe he thinks I’m getting more depressed.” Lance shrugged, and continued to look at his long-fingered hands. “I told him I would talk to you about it to make him feel better.”  
“Hmmm.” Dr. Smythe wrote something down. “Interesting wording.”  
“What do you mean?” Lance asked, finally looking up from his hands.  
“You said ‘getting more depressed.’” Dr. Smythe put down his pen, and looked Lance directly in the eye. “Care to elaborate?”

This was the topic Lance wanted to avoid, and he mentally hit himself for answering the question like that. “My meds seem to be working fine.” Lance looked down at his hands again, his nails digging painfully into his palms. “I don’t think I’m depressed. I just have my bad days like everyone else.”

Lance was lying. He did think he was depressed. His days either seemed to pass too slowly or too quickly. He felt numb. But if he did feel something, it was just sadness or annoyance. Rarely anything positive.

“Not everyone who is depressed knows that they are depressed.” said Dr. Smythe, looking at Lance with a kind expression on his face. He could tell Lance wasn’t comfortable with telling him more, so he changed the subject. “How’s your relationship with Keith?”  
“We’re good. Keith’s taking me to dinner this Friday.”  
“If you don’t mind me asking, where?”  
“I don’t know. Keith said it’s supposed to be a surprise.”  
“You know,” said Dr Smythe, smiling brightly. A little too brightly for Lance. “You could bring Keith next time, and we can all talk together. You did tell me that Keith has troubles of his own.”

Lance rubbed his thumb against his forefinger. He didn’t think Keith would want to talk about his childhood with Dr. Smythe, as he didn’t trust easily. But it was a good idea. “Maybe. I’ll ask and email you later.”

*Time skip to when Lance comes home.*

Lance came home to the smell of bread cooking in the kitchen.   
“Keith?” Lance called as he kicked off his shoes at the door. “I’m home!”  
“I’m in the kitchen!” Keith called back.  
Lance walked into the kitchen to see Keith standing at the stove, concentrating very hard on something. He walked up behind him and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Hi. Whatcha makin?”  
“Grilled cheese sandwiches. Your sister told me they were your favorite when you were little.”  
Lance blushed, cursing Veronica in his head and imagining picking up Keith, twirling him around, and kissing all over his face. “I love you, you know that? I really love you.”  
Keith’s entire face turned bright red as he smiled shyly. “Then I should do this more often, if I get that kind of response. I love you too.” Keith twisted around to kiss Lance’s lips quickly. “Can you get the plates and stuff, please?”  
“Sure.” Lance turned around to where they kept the plates, and grabbed two. He went to the silverware drawer, grabbed what he needed, before grabbing two napkins and set the table on the kitchen island, where they usually ate.

“So, what did you talk about in therapy today?” Keith asked, as they ate the grilled cheese sandwiches he had made. “What was Dr. Smythe’s opinion on the raised dose?”  
“I told him I didn’t see a difference, and he said wait a few more days before emailing him about it.” Lance said as he ate the sandwich Keith had made him. He really liked it, though Keith had nearly burned one side.  
“I still think you should raise the dosage. I haven’t seen a difference in your overall mood.”  
“You know,” said Lance, eager to change the subject. “Dr. Smythe invited you to my next session to talk about stuff.”  
“Really?”  
“Yeah. He’s been wanting to meet you for a while, actually. Do you want to come?”  
“Sure.”  
“You can complain about my dosage to him personally then.”

Keith took a bite of his sandwich before looking at Lance, who was looking at his plate as he ate his grilled cheese. He seemed off. “Are you okay, Lance?”  
“Huh?” Lance looked at his boyfriend, taken off guard for a minute, before using his default answer. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

Keith looked at Lance, searching his face. “Tell me the truth, Lance.”  
Lance looked at the half-eaten sandwich on his plate, his hands on his lap, eyes sparkling with tears. “No. I’m not okay.” Lance looked Keith as a lone tear escaped his eye. “There. I said it.”  
“Oh, honey,” said Keith softly, as he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, who started crying into his shoulder.

Lance felt all the emotions he had suppressed pour out as he sobbed uncontrollably into Keith’s shoulder. He felt everything at once, but most of all, he felt weak. He felt controlled by the negative thoughts his head created. He believed them without second guessing them once.

“I’m sorry, Keith.” Lance whispered through his sobs. Keith only hugged him harder.  
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Lance.”  
“I’m sorry for not being strong enough.”  
“You’re still here, aren’t you?” Keith whispered into Lance’s ear. “That seems pretty strong to me.”

Keith let Lance cry himself out, and by the time he was done the sandwiches had gone cold. Lance was gasping in breath, and Keith softly kissed away the small tears that were still falling.   
“I love you, Lance. With all my heart.” Keith’s soft hands cupped around Lance’s face as he looked him directly in the eyes. “If you ever need to me, I’ll be here for you. Okay?”  
“Okay,” said Lance, with a small smile. “I love you too, Keith.”


End file.
